Yell Out Your Overture
by gDeIpVhIrNoEtt
Summary: "Ask, and you shall be given." "My friend, your desire, is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess." How did Genesis come to wield the rapier?


**A/N: **This year's last writing assignment in English class was a fictional narrative, and my teacher was so cool and awesome enough to let me write fanfiction. Can you guys believe it? ^_^ Problem was that, I couldn't get an idea. I knew I wanted to write about the cast of Crisis Core, but the narrative was supposed to be plot-based, and you guys know me, I'm absolute garbage with plots. Suddenly, while I was showering, I was enlightened, and I immediately knew what I wanted to write about.

How did Genesis come to wield that pretty rapier of his?

The rapier isn't a sword, no matter how technologically advanced the VII universe was, that could've been just made from simple metal and all that, we all know. He couldn't have just brought it from a store or something now. Masamune and Buster look very realistic and man-made, but rapier doesn't. Everyone knows that rapier has no sheathe (Masamune probably does, and Buster's kept in a magnet behind the wielder's shoulder), so don't ask me why I thought of a secret dimension.

So here's my take. There was a word limit for class, and everyone knows how those two words can Instant K.O. a fanfic writer. The fact that I actually thought of a plot is a feat, so I decided to write two versions of it ^_^ This is the unabridged version, the version aimed at the gamers&fans and not the general audience. Hope you guys enjoy it. This is pre-CC. Please R&R.

* * *

_Yell Out Your Overture  
_

* * *

"My friend, your desire

is the bringer of life,

the gift of the goddess"

Those words were ever-flowing with an enigma Genesis could never understand even in the moments of purest concentration. But now, all the mist and haze the crypt held in store was cleared, until there was no doubt or question left. With its meaning, or indication, crystal-clear, Genesis did not know whether he should rejoice or go on a rampage. For he knew that his current situation was nothing more than a mirror of that sentence from LOVELESS.

He needed a weapon. No, he cared nothing for those limited-edition materia whatsoever, he could _summon _without those silly orbs. He needed something that will materially stay forever, and not melt into nothingness once incantations were recited and purpose was served. He needed a_ sword_.

Jealousy did not help. Wanting and desire killed him from the inside. Shame and the feeling of imperfectness, of not being complete like Angeal or Sephiroth, made it sting. He felt like a corpse everyday, soulless and empty. His "gift of the goddess" - "the bringer of life"- he new exactly what it was.

The redhead could no longer bear those pitiful moments when his eyes cast longing, envious glances and his heart felt stuck in a dark, suffocating pit. He saw the happiness and pride in his best friends' eyes and faces whenever they laid eyes on their iconic weapons, or brought them along in battle. It was unbearable. He, of all SOLDIERs, was incomplete.

Genesis was the adopted son of Banora's landowners. He was a rich person in comparison to Angeal, and on top of that he was spoiled. But his parents could say nothing, _nothing_, when Angeal's father gave the Buster as a gift to his son. It was the best gift a father could ever give. It wasn't just a stupid chunk of an obese steel wall. The redhead understood as much as Angeal how that sword was the physical embodiment of its wielder's honor and pride. It was the physical embodiment of Angeal's promise to his two friends. The fat blade would never fail to protect his two friends in times of dire need. The fat blade would impale anything, anyone that spat on their dignity, that endangered this planet's well-being, that ever mocked the glorious name of SOLDIER. That sword screamed _honor_.

Sephiroth, Shinra's golden boy, all-around operative and the highest and most powerful of the SOLDIERs, received the legendary Masamune from Shinra, crafted by the company's finest smiths - or so the rumors say. As far as the redhead knew, only the three of them knew Sephiroth won a bloody victory over a creature that wasn't of this world - he fought for the right to wield it. It seemed to be a normal mission day, until there appeared a pedestal that was singing its sweet alarm for the silver general alone.

More like a stick than a sword, it was a deceptive thing with an impressive length. Masamune was a weapon difficult to wield. Genesis would swear he had to concentrate deeply in order not to miss a flick of that inhumane sword, even with his skill and mako levels. He knew it was all because of Sephiroth's unique swordsmanship technique and his insane mako levels, which were higher than the redhead's and Angeal's put together. The silver general's hand refused to wield any blade that wasn't the katana he fought an insane battle for - the katana that almost sent him to the entrance of the afterlife. Angeal and Genesis knew it was the destined sword for their best friend - it was fated. It was made for him. It belonged to him and him alone.

The magic and materia prodigy of SOLDIER 1st-class, the crimson commander, Genesis Rhapsodos, had no sword or weapon whatsoever. He had to head to battle with his two companions and friends unarmed. No, the orbs of materia didn't count, Genesis was a living conductor of magic. Talent, the instructors called it. He could wield the standard SOLDIER sword, but it was trash.

Apart from the spells, he could only serve as a decoy or distraction in the battlefield during missions, especially for those type of monsters who cannot be slain by magick. It's not that his magic was trash - weapons that needed no cast time or could serve one clean, immediate flick is invaluable while fighting. In battle, one will never know - one ungraceful movement or one careless miscalculation might mean goodbye to everyone and everything you cherished.

But for the past week, those musings stung more than ever. The Bahamut horde an AVALANCHE bastard summoned during the Trinity's patrol mission in Fort Condor proved to be a chore even for the three killing machines. Genesis' memory recoiled to that moment, when it was life or death not only for him, but for the three of them. Angeal and Sephiroth were distracted by two of the dragons while Genesis was somehow trapped in a corner, immobile and unable to cast anything. The silver general had to sacrifice his left hand to push the redhead out of the way of a fire breath that could've meant death. And it didn't stop there. Angeal's shoulder was impaled by a claw soon after, so unceremoniously, taking the hit for his childhood friend.

He knew it wasn't entirely his fault; their mission was cleaning up for monsters, so of course they were tired when the cursed Bahamut horde greeted them. But still, most of Angeal and Sephiroth's injuries for that mission were _his _fault. The redhead knew he wasn't being oversensitive - it was true. When they were on the helicopter heading back to headquarters, he saw the looks on his best friends' eyes. Of course he repayed the injuries with his legendary mastered Curaja, but it didn't end there exactly.

_Sephiroth. Why can't I be as strong and as powerful as Sephiroth. If only I were, I could protect him and Angeal. If I had a sword, I could have slashed that claw that hurt Angeal. If I had a sword...I would be more useful. The shame is too much to bear. They have swords, yet I am stuck with nothing but my magick and these stupid materia. _

It was the annual 1st-class vacation soon after, and the three were in Genesis and Angeal's hometown - the apple province of Banora. Unlike filthy Midgar where everything smelled like rotten eggs, Banora's air was sinfully pure, filled with the 1st classes' favorite fruit. To the redhead, it was more than nostalgic. Genesis' adoptive parents just happened to be the mayors of this proud apple village, so their excessively-huge house was the last building from the entrance, nearest to the wild forest that marked the end of the Banora territory.

The thoughts whirled around and around the redhead's mind, unrelenting. He felt restless. His jealousy was cutting him from inside, he could feel its venom spread throughout his heart and his mind. He longed to be free from their venomous chains and the darkness that loomed around him. Fresh air was what he really needed. It felt so wrong to be lying in bed, even though the moon had already risen so high, and the light-brown-purple dumbapple trees cocooning the whole village were already invisible under the night's obsidian blanket. So he wrestled out of his bed and put on his dark-crimson shirt clumsily, laced up his hiking boots, and brought his mysterious leather-bound book with him as he stepped out of the enormous door.

He was pleasantly greeted by the sweet, pure, other-worldly air, the air he could never get enough of now that he spent nearly everyday in the rotten metropolis Midgar was. But not even that slice of heaven could settle his mind, and he was disappointed. A dark smile dawned at his graceful features, but it soon lost to happiness and melted into a genuine curve. The redhead settled on the family gazebo just beside the mansion, and as he examined his hand out of pure boredom or interest, he noticed how his already-pale skin looked even paler under the moonlight. Smirking, he opened the first page of the leather book.

"There is no hate, only joy, for you are beloved by the goddess," he recited. The redhead's piercing sapphire eyes cast a longing, desperate glance to who-knows-where. A sigh, heavily concentrated with self-pity, escaped his lips. "If there is only joy, then why am I so cursed to not have a weapon?"

Then his deep musings were suddenly drowned out by a roar. It wasn't a deafening roar, but it wasn't just a monster's simple groan, either. SOLDIER instincts rushing through and filling his body at the speed of light, Genesis knew that it wasn't near enough to be a threat, but wasn't far enough to dismiss either. A second roar, which sounded closer, confirmed that whatever it was, it was heading towards Banora, but towards him, first. To his dismay, heavy, thunderous footsteps that oozed out animalistic hunger shook the ground.

A third roar, and Genesis could see the beast, its glowing eyes and golden fur lustrous against the obsidian night. A King Behemoth, hungry and wild as a tempest, heading for him. The redhead wondered how a beast from the deepest, darkest depths of the village underground could've made its way out. What if there were more of them? But soon, he was assessing the problem he had to solve, the battle he had to fight, the victory he had to obtain. Or else it would be death not only for him, but a few more villagers, until Sephiroth and Angeal smell what was fishy.

He inwardly cursed - Behemoths were not his favorite enemies. To add, it wasn't a normal Behemoth, it was a King Behemoth. It would take some time and sweat to finish it off.

He analyzed his options. Angeal's house, where both of the redhead's friends were sleeping, was one of the buildings nearest to the entrance - he couldn't call either of them. It's not that he couldn't - he didn't want to. He would no longer depend on them. He would no longer be a burden. He needed to be a pillar of support for his two friends, a friend they could trust and lean on, and a warrior who would fight for them. He would not call them.

"How lovely," the redhead muttered nastily to himself, stress and anger distorting his sculpted face, his beautiful sapphire eyes narrowing to a dangerous glow, showing that he was obviously pissed.

Its footsteps stopped for a while, but the ground didn't stop shaking yet. The beast let out a deafening roar, thunderous against the grave-like night. A violent gust of wind attacked the redhead, brutally cutting through the grass and trees. He braced himself as he was trained to do.  
The beast's golden eyes flicked ever-so-slightly. The redhead was now aware that the monster had spotted its enemy. With a movement so sudden yet lucid, Genesis rolled to the side when its talons clawed at him. While the King Behemoth was preoccupied with detecting its escaped prey, the redhead took that opportunity to glide towards its tail and blast Firaga at its behind. The redhead, already a war veteran, was too experienced to not anticipate the violent jerk, and skittered away.

However, luck was not with him. A tree blocked his back, and the impact of the hit was more than what the redhead's enemy needed. With the redhead now in pain, the beast landed a painful hit with its tail, leaving the redhead's stomach a bloody mess.  
Genesis was a SOLDIER; pain was plain as day. The dark-crimson shade of his shirt fooled him at first, but the pang registered in his system; his eyes glowed green in response. The slow fountain from his middle was already painting spots on the grass. He tried to control his breathing.

"I have to keep the village safe," he tried to inspire himself. Biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming, he began running towards the forest. He had to lure it out. He must finish this quickly, alone.

But as he turned his head to analyze his path, he heard another set of earth-shaking footsteps, coming from a different direction. His legs stopped for a moment, and a bead of sweat formed in his pale forehead. A white glow cut through the night's darkness, from his left, accompanied by a roar. Genesis heard another roar, a roar that was farther - the roar of the first beast. Great, there were two of them.

"_I have to get them as far as possible. Run...I have to continue running._"  
And run he did. He ran and ran, his legs violently flailing as if there was no tomorrow. His whole body caught that furious adrenaline that could only be given by battle's heat. When he judged it was enough distance, he stopped to catch his breath. The redhead's fists were tightly curled on the tough fabric of his cargo pants, and his stomach felt like it was torn open. The green glow in his eyes intensified. He could hear his thunderous heartbeats against the deathlike silence of the night.  
A second shot of intense pain sent a deadly wave of adrenaline up every single vein of his. The pain came from his ankle, and in reflex, he crumpled to his knees unceremoniously. It was both relief and calamity: he successfully lured one out of the village, but he's dead meat soon enough. The redhead shut his eyes and summoned all willpower to throw another Firaga.

Soon, the first of the two beasts arrived, and started its rampage on the redhead.

He didn't know all this time, he couldn't know all this time how strong he was, how far he could push himself - Angeal and Sephiroth were always there for him - they were always there for each other. Up until now, he didn't feel himself pushing his whole being to the limits. Tonight was the first time he danced a dance where one wrong step could've meant death. The redhead did his best to dodge the two brutal monsters' chained, deadly attacks, while casting and releasing spells at the same time. He started to get dizzy, but soon his bones felt light and his head has never felt so clear. Those rare moments the SOLDIER instructors and other members of the military told them about - the moment when body and mind are one - he was experiencing it. It was a superb feeling, a thrill - dancing and sprinting away as if the redhead had nothing to lose. But he did have things and people to lose, so he kept on fighting. Graviga, Graviga, Firaga, Firaga, Graviga again - the mantra kept his mind alive. Evading and dodging the non-stop attacks transformed him into a wild horse, but a graceful one.

Unfortunately, he took a wrong step, and he was painfully swiped off his feet with a violent tail attack. While he was mid-air and seeing stars, his shoulder suffered a claw. Some deity heard his plea and let him land feet away from the monsters. His agonized scream was so deafening he wouldn't be surprised if the whole village woke. The sound was so uncharacteristic - he barely recognized himself. "_Fool. With your current state, you dare to covet Sephiroth._"

Two deafening roars, two beasts ready to tear out his flesh, and an earthquake marathon were his reality. He couldn't get himself to move, it was all too painful. His stomach area was numb, his shoulder was burning, his legs were glued to the ground. He couldn't even get up from this disgraceful position. Genesis knew it was pointless to struggle. He was too wounded and drained to lash any spell. He had no Buster Sword or Masamune.

Delirious from the pain and shock, and ruined by his hopelessness, the tears found their way in the corners of his sapphire eyes. This is the end.  
"...If only I had..a weapon..." A weapon. One clean, quick slash was all that it would take. Two, if he counted the second Behemoth King.

Out of nowhere, a glowing green mist began to surround the crimson warrior. Genesis still lay in confusion, and cursed when the beasts were drawing nearer and nearer - the earthquake they were causing too close and strong that he was jolted off of the ground. He desperately wanted, needed, to land and regain his footing. But too bad, especially when he crashed on his burning shoulder.

To his horror, one was getting ready to attack with its tail, and the other, to the redhead's left, was starting to claw him again. The green mist repelled both with the grace of the wind but the strength of steel. Both beasts grew more ferocious and deafening, but the green mist was equally persistent. Genesis was confused and amazed and shocked, all at the same time.  
A cool, soothing wind enveloped the redhead, all his pain and the spilled blood now nonexistent, and only shimmering green glows remained of his newly-earned scars. He was startled when a voice addressed him.  
It was a voice that was judging, yet sustaining. Ancient, yet youthful. Magical, yet real.  
"Why do you want a weapon?"  
He pondered carefully, deciding that it wasn't a voice to trifle with. "To be a better warrior."  
The mist moved again to defend him from another slash, glowing more intensely when it met the talon. "Sorcery, or magic, is just as valuable as the sword," the enigmatic voice continued. Shivers ran down the redhead's spine - shivers of fear and anxiety. He was desperate. He needed to say something, to say the right thing, or the mist would leave him here to die, he just knew it.  
"I don't want to be a burden to my friends in the battlefield."  
"You never were."

"But that's a lie! Not once, but many times, I nearly pushed my friends to the brink of death!"  
The mist saved him from another attack - neither monsters seemed to be giving up. For some reason, the redhead felt as if the mist was weakening, as if it was ready to say goodbye to him.  
He thought carefully before he told it, "I want to be as fully useful in the battlefield as my best friends are."  
The mist began to fade. "Each man has its own purpose."  
Genesis raised a hand unceremoniously. If it left him here to die? "Wait!"  
"You do deserve a weapon, warrior of Gaia. But how could you prove your worth?" It grew more transparent each passing second. Both monsters were exploding, and in a second, the redhead would be dead meat. At those words, the redhead exploded, his eyes glowed green once again in anger. All pain and bitterness from the recesses of his mind surfaced, darkening his soul. "_Goddess...what have I not given..for Shinra?!_" he roared out rashly, growing even more desperate and impatient. "_What...have I not given...FOR SOLDIER?!_"

"Indeed, there was nothing you spared. But I shall ask you again, why do you want a weapon?"  
The mist was nearly invisible now. One of the beasts' claws were a breath away from his neck. He could smell the putrid stench of the two ugly Behemoths, but he was too preoccupied to cover his nose. He yelled out the only honest answer he could give, the dark secret that plagued his entire being, the feelings he would never dare reveal.  
"BECAUSE I WANT TO BE BETTER THAN SEPHIROTH!" His eyes' repugnant green glow was drowned out by a swift sweep of genuine azure, and at that moment the mist knew it was the redhead's whole soul it saw in Genesis' eyes. Honest and pure.

In response, the mist also shone brighter and took the shape of what he could only assume to be a sword, floating in front of him, protecting him. All his concentration was stolen by the mist as he tried to decipher the inscriptions surrounding it - it looked foreign to him, but he felt that if he just concentrated, he would be able to understand them like how a normal person could read a book. The redhead shut his eyes, feeling power and energy surge all throughout him like an ocean wave. He was not afraid, not for a second did he doubt the mist - the Lifestream - the Goddess' protection and warmth.

When he opened his eyes, the mist was gone, but the warmth never left him. A resilient clank of metal and magic fused together defended the redhead from another deadly injury, producing a sound that was more pleasant than the chiming of bells. He was holding a sword in his ungloved, bare hand as if he wielded it for a thousand years. It felt so perfect, so right, as if it belonged to him and only to him. The blade was blood-crimson, thicker than Masamune but worlds more slender than the Buster Sword. The hilt was an ancient silver, its graceful designs elegant, and its intricacy surrounding the wielder's hand - protecting it. The pommel was a gigantic sapphire gem and its twin was found in the guard, their hues exactly the same as the redhead's eyes. It was as if it was a sword version of himself.  
It was the legendary rapier, the sword for a mystic knight such as the redhead, the only sword infused with ancient runes and capable of conducting magic.  
When he laid eyes on it, the redhead felt as if he was looking at the mirror. Yes, it was definitely his. His and his alone. Nobody would dare steal it or take it away from him. It was something that neither Angeal nor Sephiroth had, and would never ever have. It was his, the only thing that was his alone and would be his forever.

The sword was a new friend, a new responsibility, but he could've sworn that he never felt more free in his entire life. Never so protected, never so right.  
"Goddess...Seph...'geal...thank you," he thought to himself, gratefulness and a new hope restoring his mood to its former pleasantness. The redhead eflt his face glow.

Waking back to reality, he concentrated on feeling the spark of Tri-Thundaga within his soul, on feeling the surge of electricity flow within his being. This time, he felt different, as the hand holding rapier began to surge with energy as well. He'd admit it was awkward at first, but it felt right, easy as breathing. The rapier began to glow in a glorious pale-crimson light, absorbing the spell from the redhead's soul and amplifying it with a sheen and a deadly chime from the sapphire pommel gem. Genesis felt empty already, he felt the magic leave his soul and occupy his sword. A feeling within him alarmed him that it was fully-charged, and he knew that it was the right moment to strike. With an experimental but determined flick of his new weapon, the two beasts were lost in the deadly sparks of electricity and the paralyzing power of thunder fused with a magic sword.

Genesis felt even more emptier, as if something deep inside him was released. Yet he never felt more satisfied, more _complete, _in his whole life. The green glow of the Lifestream returned, the dead beast's ugly carcasses fading into it. The redhead was surprised when it left the pile and began to surround him.

"Champion of Gaia, you have done well," it said, this time, with a warmth that didn't exist before.

A ghost of a smirk graced the redhead's face for a split-second, but it went as quickly as it came, replaced by a frown. It wasn't a frown expressing his anger or sadness or burdens, but a frown with a promise he would never break. "Goddess...let me be your champion. Let me be a hero of this planet. My blade, my magick, my soul, is ever yours. I will defend Gaia from all violators, from all who dare to profane this world, from all who dare to endanger its beauty. Please...like Sephiroth...like Angeal...choose me as yours as well." He allowed a flick of the crimson blade to grace his will.

The mist answered him. It wasn't the answer he expected, but the warmth and sincerity of its words were more than what he needed. "As Sephiroth was worthy, he was chosen. As Angeal was faithful, he was chosen. Good hero, try not to be someone you are not. You are a hero no lesser than them. You are not your friends, the Trinity was named because of their differences, yet their ability to fight as one. Crave not their fame nor their glory, for I assure you here and now, a fair share that's yours and only yours awaits you."

Genesis felt ecstatic, never so satisfied. He knew it wasn't just pathetic, empty promises. It wasn't too good to be true; it _is _true. He knew it. He believed in the Goddess' words; he could feel their promise, their light.

"You do not deserve to lick away your wounds in the shadows. No man deserves to suffer alone. When comes such another warrior who used his darkness for nothing more but the light? Never let your jealousy taint your noble soul. If you cannot relinquish the darkness, use it for light, as you have always done."

Coalescing to surround the redhead once more with warmth, it faded soon after with a silent goodbye. The redhead closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the rapier sheathe itself in a dimension unreachable, into a dimension only he, the rightful owner, could call forth from. The rapier was his and only his, and no one could take it away. It was now in a place only he knew of, in a place that existed within him, in his heart, in his soul, in the passion and love that filled his being. The weight vanished from his right hand, but it never left his heart. He began walking, his boots softly brushing against the rich and tender grass, shining gold as the sunrise's face dawned on them. There was beauty and warmth. And so was a smile that rivaled the brightness and promise of the rising sun.


End file.
